Week #5 Short Story: A Miracle Baby. ((And Announcment from Kim & Didi) #kdsuspense #amreading

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Author One Scene One

The newspaper is thick and crunches heavily in my hand as I wad it into a tight ball, and squeeze it in my tired overworked fingers. The outhouse is dark and the smell makes me nauseous. Everything makes me nauseous. I’m guessing myself to be a couple months along, but it’s hard to tell. There are only three things I know with absolute in my life right now. One, there’s is definitely a baby growing in my sixteen year old belly. I feel it move and I’m even starting to show. Two, it’ll never be accepted. Even less so than myself, if that’s possible. And three, I’ll have to take Jesse up on his offer to take me far away from this place… eventually.

“Adsila!” My mother shouts.

“Yes, Momma?”

I yell back at her before I use the thick newspaper to wipe. Then I stand to adjust my knickers under my layered green striped dress.

“Adsila. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Momma’s speed walk carries her in my direction, chickens scattering at her feet.

“We’ve got a lot of work ta’ do today, that corn ain’t gonna pick itself.”

As I step out of the outhouse, a different rancid smell consumes my nostrils. I’m downwind from the beef and we just had a massive rainstorm. It’s not as bad as the smell inside, but the switch from one bad scent to another hits me like a twister, nearly causing me to either faint or throw up. My body can’t decide which need is the stronger. Instinctively I hold out a steadying hand and lean against the old cracked wood of the outhouse door, to aid in holding myself upright. I look up at mama with pleading eyes, willing her to cut me some slack from the chores.

“Adsila, my blossom, are you okay? You look sick.”

My momma is a very beautiful woman in her late forties. She’s muscular and her once smooth pale skin has leathered by the sun, but she’s pretty nonetheless. Blossom is the meaning of my Cherokee name, and every time my momma says it I can see the love and reassurance in that concerned wrinkle between her eyes. She told me once that she named me Adsila as a sign of hope for us, because the most beautiful flowers blossom in the hardest ground. They’re tough, and so are we. Momma is white and was engaged once to a confederate soldier. After riding four weeks to meet up with him, she wound up raped and beaten within an inch of her life in the middle of an unexpected battle.

To her fiance, it didn’t matter what she’d been through, or that it was an attempt to visit him that brought her there in the first place. The man saw her as ruined. She was dirtied by an Indian, so he left her behind on the battlefield to rot. She’d been taken in by an elderly Cherokee woman. She picked up bits and pieces of the language, and grew to love the people.

Momma quickly learned that the man who’d raped her was an outcast in the tribe, and the only one of their men who would do such a thing to a woman. Rape was deeply frowned upon by the elders, and no one grieved for the man when he died in the same battle that he’d ‘ruined’ my momma. Just over nine months later, I was born with full square cheekbones, thick dark hair, and the purest olive Native skin. Momma stuck with the Cherokee people until I was three before settling on our makeshift ranch on her own. The people she loved and called family we’re being pushed west, and picked off regularly. Being alone with an Indian child was a big risk, but so was staying with them.

Our ranch sits on a vast prairie land in Tennessee. Our home is small and we barely keep enough animals to get us by, but we’ve made it this far. There’s a town a day’s ride from us, but we don’t make the trip very often. Mainly because I’m not welcome. Most of our supplies are brought to us by the women in town. They come to our ranch for Momma’s famous “mud”, or so she calls it. After spending so much time with the Cherokee people, they taught her many things about plant life. She has a green thumb, and is seen as a healer of sorts. No matter the rash, wound, fever or sickness, Momma can mix up something to help. It’s the only thing that’s kept the townsfolk from coming out merely to slit my throat in my sleep. They’re not too keen on allowing Indians to stick around. Even young ones. I keep to myself with my eyes at the ground. Except with Jesse.

“Sorry Momma. I’m okay, just a little sick.”

“You get sick a lot.”

Momma stares at me with her hands on her hips, just waiting for the confession. She knows I’m pregnant. She has to, it’s getting obvious. But, I still haven’t actually told her, and she’s the type of woman to wait for me. She’s tough, but when it comes down to it, we’re a team. She isn’t going to force it out of me until I’m ready to talk. I remove my hand from the outhouse door and force myself to stand up tall despite the swirl in my guts.

“I’ll be okay, Momma. I’m sure it’s the heat.”

“The heat,” she rolls her eyes, “yeah.”

Momma reaches up to tuck a long thick strand of my black hair behind my ear. After moving it from my face she takes a long look into my guilty eyes.

“If you’re sure you feel okay, we really do need ta’ tend ta’ the crops.” She says a little gentler than before.

“Okay Momma.”

“I tell ya’ what,” Momma starts. “If we get all this corn down before the sun drops, then tomorra’ we’ll take a day off and go into town.”

“Town?” My head snaps up.

As much as I hate the people in town, our trips are always bitter sweet. Momma holds her head high and marches us from shop to shop. I get to pick out something nice, and as long as I don’t make eye contact with anyone the abusive comments are usually minimal.

“Well, I was thinkin’ we could pick out some new material and make ya’ another dress or two. What do you think about that?”

She definitely knows. I look down at the stretched material around my middle and nod. This must be her way of making me talk. I’ll have to tell her while we measure me and sew I’m sure of it.

“‘Kay,” I agree, a little embarrassed. “Let’s get to it Momma.”

The chickens cluck and scatter as we make our way to the small fenced off corn field. I’m in the middle of filling my second basket of freshly plucked ears of corn, when the sound of a galloping horse pierces into my eardrums. The butterflies in my chest are confused with the sinking feel of a rock in my stomach. I never know what to expect with visitors. Please be him, I think, please be my Jesse.

“Ms Hattie!?” The voice is deep, and definitely  does not belonging to Jesse.

I let my hair swoop back to its usual place, covering a quarter of my face. The man is clearly drunk, as he struggles to swing a foot to dismount from his horse. He ties the animal to a post of our fence by its reins. Momma straightens her back and sashes proudly in his direction. Ready to face the world.

“Where’s he at, Hattie?” he slurs. “I know my boy’s been foolin’ ‘round with that mix breed of yours.”

Momma lets out a sigh, she knows how bad this can turn and how fast, but she keeps her composure.

“Sherif, why don’t you let me pack a few ears of this fresh corn in your pack, and send you off  with some coffee. We haven’t seen your son.”

I keep my hands busy, picking corn and placing them in the basket. Jesse’s dad hates me even worse than the rest of the townsfolk. Especially when he drinks. Momma reaches a kind hand for Sherif Brink’s shoulder. He throws it aside and marches at me full force, like a bull ready charge.

“Where’s my boy?”

His breath is thick with bourbon, it nearly makes me gag. A light spray of spit showers my face.

“I haven’t seen Jesse, sir.” I speak to the dirt at my feet.

“Bull shit!” He shouts, before reaching down and wrapping his fingers around a rock. He stands back up tall, “He didn’t show up, you mutt. Jesse was supposed to help me at the jailhouse today, and he never came. He ain’t home neither.”

Momma has been on his heels since he began swaying to my direction.

“Sheriff put down the rock.” Her voice is firm. “What in the world do you plan on doin’ with that?”

“You shut up!” He demands, pointing a finger in Momma’s face. “Answer my question mut!”

“I don’t know sir, maybe he forgot.” I plead, my eyes glued to the rock in his fingers.

Thwack. Everything goes blank.

***

My vision begins to focus, Momma’s face transforming from two to one and the blur lifts. As my consciousness regains I feel a thick wet warmth down my legs. I must have been out for a while because I’m lying in my bed and a familiar hand is laced tightly in my fingers. I try to speak, but my voice catches in my dry throat. I want to tell her. I want to tell her, but I can’t form words. As my eyes roll back in my head and I start drifting back away, I listen. His voice is deep and sweet, it warms me through the cold dark pain.

“Ms Hattie, please,” Jesse pleads. “Please tell me me she’s gunna’ make it.”

“I don’t know Jesse. If you hadn’t have showed up when you did he woulda’ kept kickin’ her.”

“Oh my God, she’s bleeding” he cries. “The baby.”

Again darkness consumes me.

***

“Adsila, my love?” I whisper her name.

“Yeah?” Her voice is smooth.

The grass is soft under our backs and the sun is blinding above us. Her hand is small and warm in the palm of mine. My heart thumps as I look down at her rapidly growing belly. She’s due anytime. My father hasn’t been to her ranch since the incident, thank God.

“When are we going to talk about leavin’?” I ask, for the hundredth time, hoping that just maybe this time she’ll listen.

“We can’t Jesse. You know I can’t leave Momma.”

I watch closely, completely relaxed as she rubs her free hand over our miracle that’s somehow still alive. My mind races back to that day. The day my father nearly killed them both. I shudder, and close my eyes tightly.

“What if someone sees the baby? What if he comes back?” I plead.

I want more than anything to take my beautiful Adsila, my blossom, away from this place. I would have left two years ago, the day I turned eighteen had she agreed to come with me. But she won’t. I understand her need to stay with Hattie, I do. But, how are we going to hide a little one?

“I know we have to go, Jesse.” She finally admits. “They’ll find a way to take her I know they will. But we need Momma. I can’t have this baby without her and we both know it.”

“Her?” I sit up, and smirk. She grins back at me, her tall cheeks lift even higher.

“It’s a girl, I just know it.”

Author Two Scene Two

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” I mock her in a playful tone. “What happens if it’s a boy?”

“Then I’ll be just as happy, as long as it’s healthy.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I turn my attention from the blue sky above us and look at my one true love. She’s beautiful, no matter what my dad or any of the town’s people say. Her black hair, coco coloured skin, full lips and bright brown eyes blow me away. I don’t understand it, I don’t understand the hostile attitude toward her just because of who she is. She never asked to come into this world as she did, as a product of a rape. And even if she had been conceived in love between two different people from different backgrounds, what’s the big deal? I can’t help but have a different opinion to the rest of this town, even if I never fell in love with her.

“So what’s the plan Adsila? You’re due any time now and really we need to decide what we’re gonna do. It’s a miracle you’re both alive after what my dad did. I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Okay, let’s do it, I don’t wanna leave my momma but we need to stay safe.”

The words fall out of me before I even have a chance to really think about it, life won’t be easy here not with another Cherokee child one half of the community will accept the baby, maybe as he will be part Cherokee but the other half won’t. Life’s hard enough for me as it is. And then there’s Momma, if I stay her life will be even more harder, if I go I’ll break her heart.

***

“I’m not sure you’ve thought this through  Adsila, Georgia? You wanna head to Georgia?”

“Yeah Momma, we might be more welcome there.”

I watch my momma pull herself up to her full height, as she takes in my plan.

“Child, there ain’t no way you’re goin’ ta Georgia.”

“But Momma, it’s just the next state and maybe people will accept us, me and the baby.”

“That may be so, but how are y’all gonna live? That’s my concern as ya momma ya can’t live off thin air.”

“Will you come with us?”

I know it’s a stupid question, but I have to ask. For a second, Momma’s face looks like she’s considering a life in Georgia. Then it clouds over as she looks off into the distance at the chickens running free in the yard.

“I can’t.”

“Why not.”

“ I just can’t I’m too old to be doin’ that journey and settin’ up a new home.”

“But Momma–”

“Nothin’ else to say Adsila.”

I get to my feet from the steps of the porch and reach out to her, to try and reason with her some more, she turns her back as she heads over to the chickens. I never imagined that it would come to this, that I would be forced to make a decision between my momma and baby. I need them both, and I need Jesse too.

***

“Arrrrgggh Momma please make it stop please!”

“Stop hollerin’ and focus  Adsila. Your body can’t do it by itself.”

Momma pats dry my damp brow as I pant, yell and try my best to stay calm.

“It’s  a few weeks early, sometimes it happens. Now push  Adsila… pusssssssssssssh!”

I snap my eyes shut and do as Momma say’s ,she knows best, but this pain is killing me how to women do this more than once?

“All right, I can see the head. Deep breath now, that’s it. Push Adsila pusssssssh!”

“Awwww Momma make it stop please.” I clamp down and push again.

“That’s it, that’s it…. here come the shoulders, keep pushing…. Good girl!… That’s it….push. You done it!”

Waaaaah  waaaah

The sound of my baby greets my ears, and for the first time in my life I know what true pain feels like.

“It’s a boy…  Adsila we gotta boy child!”

“What… what, really? Oh gosh Momma,, why didn’t you tell me it hurt so much?” I manage to pant between breaths. I can’t believe it. I have a son… a king.

***

I rest with my eyes closed, the fan on full blast next to me and  my king cradled across my chest feeding. He’s a hungry boy, I feel like the life is being sucked out of me. I’ve been in bed since he arrived, just over two hours ago. Not one part of my body feels like what it once was, before or during pregnancy. No one prepared me for what childbirth really means, how it feels and how amazing the end result is. For nine months I’ve felt the connection with him inside me, every turn he made, or leg that kicked out as he bedded down in my womb for the night will never leave me. There’s something about carrying a child that changes you, I’m only sixteen but I feel much more older now, now that my body has gone through the whole experience of feeding, keeping safe and protecting a baby. I feel grown.

I hear a light knock at the door which causes my eyes to snap open, and pull my king closer to my chest to protect him. I’m full of nerves thinking about the reaction he will get from town folk. His dark hair, eyes and tan skin giveaway who he really is skin deep.

“Ma’am, can I see Adsila please.”

“Go right on through.”

I instantly relax at the sound of Jesse’s voice. I listen closely as his boots clunk against the floor, then my door slowly creaks open.

“Evenin’”

I look up at Jesse at the foot of my bed, with his hat in his hands and a broad smile on his face.

“Hey, you okay?”

“More like are you okay? How are ya’, can I see?”

“Sure, come on over.”

Slowly Jesse makes his way over to the side of my bed and peers at the tiny bundle in my arms. I watch his face light up.

“Wow, can I hold?”

“Mmm hummm.” I give nothing away, I hand over our king and wait for Jesse to notice it’s a boy. He unwraps the blanket gently to get a good look.

“No way, haha well, what have we here? That don’t look like no girly parts to me!”

I can’t help but laugh at his surprise.

“A boy, amazing.” Jesse shakes his head and smiles down at the baby as he covers up his tiny body.

“Look at him, he’s just fine, all of him. He has your hair too.”

“Sure is, he’s a miracle.” I look up at them both beaming.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come over sooner, dad was around and he would only ask questions. I had to wait until the bourbon took over and he passed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Have you spoke to your momma yet?”

I watch Jesse move around the room rocking the baby back and forth, with a proud look on his face as he talks baby talk to him. My heart swells.

“Yeah, kinda she’s not happy as you can imagine, and I’m not sure if she will come with us.”

“Adsila we have to go, you know this as much as I do we can’t stay around here. Both of us are targets as well as the baby. Already, the town folk are avoiding me, I know they’re  callin’ me names behind my back. Not that I care, I just don’t want him to grow up in this environment, this … I don’t know what to call it  He is a miracle as you say, after the beating you took, he deserves more than these narrow minded folk here.”

“I get it Jesse, but Momma’s right how are we gonna live?”

“I’ll think-a somethin’”

I lower my lashes to the bed, and pray he does.

“Maybe I can find a job too maybe–”

“Are you crazy? No way! You stay home look after… after, what we gonna call him?”

It feels like I’m frozen in time, as we stare at each other. To see Jesse and the baby bonding already my mind is made up, we need to leave and soon. No matter what people think our baby was conceived in love, no violence, no hate and he is so innocent. If people can’t accept me or us around here we’ll travel across the USA until we find somewhere that will. Maybe even farther overseas if we need to, there must be a place we can fit in. A white American boy, with a Cherokee girl and bi-racial child.  He’s mine, ours and we’ll protect him.

“Earth to Adsila… did you hear me, what we callin’ the little guy?”

“King… I wanna call him King, let’s pack a bag.”

updated-telling-tales-weekly-challenege-kim-didi53

Thank you for reading and voting. Didi and I will pause this week on wards, don’t worry we’ll be back soon. Like I said last time we paused, it’s the quiet before the storm. Then what happened?… The Suspenseful Collection Volume one was published. 🙂 Sit tight for more Kim and Didi’s Suspenseful Collection, with a twist! You can read all our stories here.

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And The Most Voted For Writing Prompt is: A Crime Scene… Damn Kim’s excited!! #kdsuspense #amwriting #crimefiction

CRIME SCENE

 

Thank you, thank you and THANK YOU!! For all your votes on Twitter and the blogs this week. This week Didi and I asked you to vote for your favourite type of movie scene.  This week we will start a story at random, with the most voted for type of scene. It was a close call between romantic comedy – first date and a crime scene.  However, a crime scene won the vote. We are SO excited,  as suspense authors we do love a bit of crime fiction. While Didi likes to write them (characters) a little psycho, I like to keep it fast paced and edgy so this should be a GOOD week, as we join forces again!  Don’t forget we’d love to see your stories , please write with us. Start your story at random with a crime scene and let us see. Post your link on one of our blogs and share with #kdsuspense. We’ll catch you Tuesday. Have a wonderful Bank Holiday weekend if you’re in the UK.

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

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What’s Your Favourite Kind Of Movie Scene?….. #amwriting

 

 

Didi and I are feeling a little (extra) creative this week. Are you a movie lover? For this week’s short story writing prompt, what’s your favourite kind of movie or scene in a movie? Is it action & adventure, erotic, romantic comedy, thriller and suspense… what?? We’ll create this week’s #kdsuspense short story, by starting the story randomly, using the  type of  movie scene with the most votes. We’ve left off a horror scene as … well… we wrote that  genre last week. Did you miss it ? It had blood, gore,sex and more 18 + reading. Read it here.  Thank you for voting! Don’t forget to write with us. We’d love to read your work. Post the link on one of our pages to see.

 

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

Wk #3 Volume 2: Chainsaw Ridge- A Short story (Blood, Sex, Gore + More) #kdsuspsense #amwriting #horror

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18+ Reading! Adult Content Alert.

Chainsaw Ridge

Author One Scene One

“Alice!”

The voice is a blend of husky and shrill, like nails on a chalkboard. Alice cringes at the sound of it.

“Alice.” It repeats. “You better answer me, dammit!”

“Yes, daddy.”

The rickety steel framed bed creaks as Alice rolls onto her side. She’s cradled by the dip in the overly used and extremely stained mattress, that she’s been sleeping on for nearly twenty years. The same bed she slept in as a toddler. A waft of her uncleansed flesh floats into the air with her movements. The sour pinch of the smell wins its competition with the week old garbage pile to her side. Alice mozies to the window of her bedroom to let some breeze in, as she listens to her crippled father’s voice. She knows full well what’s coming.

“My babies are starvin’, get yer fat ass out there and feed em’.”

“M’kay, daddy.”

“We’re runnin’ low on chow,” he shouts through the thin wall separating them. “It’s time ya’ go ta’ town and pick up some feed.”

“‘M’kay, daddy.”

Alice answers his barking orders, completely numb to what the request entails.

“Well, get to it! An’ make it snappy. I wanna’ watch ya’ prep the meat before dark.”

“Yes sir.”

Alice’s nose pleads for the fresh earthy scent of the white oak forest that she can see in the distance. That luxury is denied, and only the rotten smell of her father’s pig farm bites into her room. They grunt and pop their jaws searching their large shit filled pens for dinner. Directly below Alice’s window, everything about the hogs gave her nightmares. Especially what they’re fed. She complies with her father’s wishes either way.

At a very young age, Alice was taught exactly how much a pig can consume. Teeth, bone, everything. They don’t even shit it out the evidence, their bodies absorb every last bit. After a while the horrid screams of her father’s victims became nothing but routine, a familiar sound fighting its way through the forced emotionless fog of her brain. The farm is secluded, miles from Chicago where the homeless pickens have always been abundant. She learned to tune out the screams very well… Until his accident…

Alice was there when her daddy crashed, and so was the middle aged man knocked out in the back seat of the pickup. The man happened to be twice her size, so she had to take extreme measures to get the job done. It was the very day her father passed down his legacy, and the first day of his new life bound to the restraints of a wheelchair.

The sounds of that day are what playback consistently in Alice’s head. Her daddy was trapped in the truck, smashed at the waist, and the stranger had been tossed out through the front window. Alice withstood the roll completely unscathed, leaving her to clean up the mess her daddy had started. The squeals of the tires and the crunch of metal and glass were nothing compared to what came after they rolled.

“Do it, Alice.”

His voice was younger then. Still husky, but with less scratch.

“You have to kill him, Alice! Do it! Do it before he wakes up!”

Alice was only thirteen at the time. Her hands shook as she squeezed her body out of the broken glass of the truck’s windshield. In a panic she searched through the chaos of scattered shards as they glistened in the summer sun. Thousands of tiny shining chunks covered everything from the back of the truck that had been tossed out all over the pavement. Alice ran to a shovel, only to be shut down by the voice.

“You’re too small for that! Use your fuckin’ head!”

Alice dropped the shovel, her body froze. She didn’t want to do it, but knew it was up to her. They lived on a very remote place, but they couldn’t risk being seen nonetheless. She also knew that if the stranger woke up, he’d likely get away. Although Alice was very large for her age, and strong, she was still much smaller than the man. A sharp jaggedy chain shimmered in the sun, calling to her. Alice shook her head, afraid of her own thoughts.

“Do it Alice!”

Hesitantly she reached for it, her meaty fingers gripped tightly around the handle of her daddy’s chainsaw. The pit of her stomach screamed out in horror. I can’t do it, she thought, I’m not ready yet. He yelled even louder from inside the smashed truck bed while she stood staring at the stranger. Mute.

“Just fuckin’ do it, Alice!”

“Daddy I…”

“Do it now, before he fuckin’ wakes up!”

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled the chainsaw’s rope. She was no stranger to the tool having used it on the farm often, yet it still took her shaking arm a few tries. The buzz of the saw cut in and out, struggling its way to life. Rununununun, Runununununun.

“Do it!”

Finally the chainsaw’s roar became steady. Alice made her way to the man, her weapon vibrating both arms as she griped it with every bit of strength she could muster. With ease, the saw chewed through the man’s flesh like butter. Scarlet chunks painted Alice’s face with a splat. She closed her mouth to keep the taste out, and wiped the wet pieces of him from her eyes with the long sleeve of her once floral print dress. Without missing a beat she went back to work. As soon as his head rolled away from his body she held the loud running saw to his middle.

The pieces of him had to be small enough for her to carry by herself. Her daddy’s voice bounded over the destruction of her running metal weapon. Chewed up chunks of intestines spilled onto the pavement, like bloody heaps of broken rope.

“Do it!”

As Alice remembers the sounds of that day, she stares at her daddy’s pigs. It’s a new bunch of animals. Most of the hogs that had eaten her first kill are now dead. Sliced into the bacon that fills the old power sucking freezer in their dank dirty basement.There’s only one of those particular hogs left. Alice recognizes this very pig because she watched the oval black spot on top of its back, as it chewed through the skull of that man’s severed head. Each bite with a crunch. It was a tiny piglet then, now it’s gray and aged.

“Alice!”

His voice again cut through her.

“Yeah, daddy?”

“I said make it fuckin’ snappy!”

Author Two Scene Two

Alice sighed, and cut her eyes at her dad’s voice. He was a mean old bastard, her daddy. Never one to show any compassion to anyone. All he cared about were his fat pigs. She remembered in her childhood, when he was not wheelchair bound, that he’d slept with them on the hay  in the barn, right under her window. As if it were normal for folk to do that. When her mom was alive Alice swore that’s what turned her crazy. An unloving husband more interested in intercourse …. With pigs. She shuddered at the thought, and sight of it. She remembered well the day she walked in on him with his pants around his ankles, humping a pig in the ass she felt disgusted. She ran out the barn screaming and confused, not sure what to make of it all. She reasoned with herself the best thing to do was to tell Mom. She laughed as she sat by the window with her grubby shawl wrapped over her shoulders, rocking in her chair, chain smoking on a cigarette.

“Get used to it baby girl, that’s your father for you.”

Was all her mom said. In a flat unmoved tone. Gathering herself together and shaking off the early memories of her childhood. Alice walked over to the cracked mirror on the wall. She took a deep look at herself. For a woman of twenty three years old she looked nothing like her peers. Compared to all the other women her age Alice was a state. She wore her wavy dark brown hair in two French braids always, her eyebrows were unattended to, they looked more like caterpillars crawling across her face, rather than a set of threaded and plucked neat brows. Her skin was grey with lack of sunshine and vitamin D, she hardly left the house. It also had a slight dirty look to it. She was far from fashionable, even if her father had the money for her to buy the latest trends, the mean tight fisted old bastard  probably would never allow it. She donned a plain gray sundress, no matter the weather come rain or sunshine. Her dirty off white ankle socks completed her look of an unkept woman, clearly poverty stricken. On her feet a pair of worn brown sandals. Alice looked a woman trapped in a timewarp.

“I’m on my way Daddy.” She called over her shoulder as she tore her eyes from her reflection.

“Good, like I said hurry the fuck up, they’re hungry and so am I.”

The sound of his voice penetrating through the walls stuck Alice differently this time, instead of fear she felt annoyance at his demanding, unappreciative ways. She waited on him hand and foot since he became wheelchair bound. How does he thank her? … He did’nt that’s the messed up thing about it. After she pulled him from that truck and saved his life, not to mention kept his ass out of prison by disposing of the stranger’s body, he had not once thanked her.

***

As Alice made her way down the dirt gravel road from her house then took a left. She headed toward the town center. It was winter and the days had become chilly, she felt it as she pulled her worn cardigan tighter around her. The chill bit through her  to the core of her bones. With her bare legs and low ankle socks she had no protection from the chilly air.

Alice looked around her as if seeing her neighborhood for the first time, through a new set of eyes. How had life just slipped away so quickly? The years just rolled into one since her mom passed away. “Natural causes” the Dr. said, Alice found it hard to believe. Her mama was crazy yes, but apart from a slightly disturbed mind she was fit and well. It had crossed her mind that maybe, just maybe her dad had something to do with her death and “natural causes.”

She pushed the thought away as she spotted Bill up ahead.

“Hey Alice, what-chaya doin’?”

“Nothin’”

“Don’t look like nothin’ ta’ me.” Bill said as he ran over to her and stepped in line with her pace.

“I’m headin’ to town.”

“What for? An’ you walkin’ all that way?”

“Yeah, I’m walkin’”

“What for though, what ya need over there?”

“Chow.”

“Oh them damn pigs. You mean ta tell me ya father’s still got ‘em?”

“Yeah Bill, I swear he loves them more than me.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Hmm.” Was all Alice could say. Numb to any emotion regarding her dad.

“What-do- ya say we take a lil’ walk in the woods on the way?”

“Not today Bill, I gotta get going.”

“Oh C’mon, Alice… You love our walks in the woods.”

Bill took Alice’s hand and led her off the dirt road toward the woods. He was hard already at the thought of slamming Alice up against the trees. One thing he liked about Alice was she was an easy goer. She never talked much, not the intelligent type. She spread her legs and that’s all she needed to do, that was good enough for him. She liked to get fucked and had no problem with servicing two even three men in the woods at a time. Often, he wondered what caused her to be so mute and unemotional when it came to sexual relations. She seemed unfazed by it all. Alice stopped in her tracks and pulled her hand from his.

“Bill not today, I really gotta go.”

“It won’t take long, let’s go.”

Alice gave in with a sigh, she saw the twinkle in Bill’s eye as the smiled and walked ahead. She followed behind him into the depths of the woods.

***

Bill wasted no time as he grabbed Alice’s hair and bent her over. He pulled the hem of her dirty dress up, and pulled her panties to one side. Alice held onto the tree for dear life as he slammed into her. Her mind went blank as he thrust in and out of her from behind, grunting and moaning. He slowed himself down to hold back his climax, and slipped out of her. He spun her around and put her back against the tree, he looked down at her with a smirk on his face. Bill was far from handsome. He had dirty blond hair cut short, a wide forehead with a thick nose. She never focused on his looks when they were intimate in the woods. In fact, she never focused on any of the men’s looks she allowed to have their way with her. For her sex allowed her to not think or feel. All though at least someone, anyone paid attention to her during the one on one sessions, or many three or foursomes she had with the town’s men.

“Ya ganna treat me nicely today Alice, maybe suck me off a bit?.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Maybe, that’s not what I wanna hear.” Bill retorted as he pulled down Alice’s zipper at the back of her dress and slid it over her shoulders. She was braless, as always. Her full breasts fell out and greeted him. Bill massaged over her breasts roughly as he stared down at her. The air was now so chilly he could see his own breath as he spoke, the sight of Alice’s nipples hardening against to cool air hardened him more. He gave into temptation and lowered his mouth to her right breast, he took her nipple in his mouth and began to enjoy her. Alice tipped her head back and let out a slight moan. Her back arched against the tree as she allowed him to take her into his mouth deeper.

Bill’s hand travelled south, it made it’s way between her legs. He forced her thighs open, and slide his middle finger inside her. He felt her slickness as he finger fucked her into heaven. Alice’s eyes rolled back as she bit her her lip, Bill slid in a second finger and fucked her within an inch of her life up against the tree, as he nibbled and enjoyed her breasts at the same time. Alice panted and breathed heavy but that’s all he’d ever get from her.

For Alice secretly, this time things felt different with Bill. She felt a sense of satisfaction from the way his fingers worked her insides. Usually, her body would react in it’s normal way and she would become moist at his touch, however her internal feelings were always still numb. It was like her body had it’s own mind. Today she felt alive internally.

“Do I make you feel good Alice?”

“Hmm”

“You like that?”

“Hmm.”

Bill laughed at Alice’s response, or lack of it. He up’ed his game a little, he removed his hands from between her thighs, then dropped to his knees. With the hem of her dress pulled up she was on show for him, all of her. Without a second thought he leaned into her and put his mouth between her thighs to taste her slickness.

“Ohhhh.”

Alice lost herself control, for the first time she became verbally expressive.

Bill, got off on the reaction he caused from the usually mute Alice. He buried his head between her legs, and with his mouth set to work. He’d never given Alice head before, he usually saved that for girls that actually meant something. He’d had enough of Alice’s distant mute reactions, she now became a challenge sexually to get her to react to his touch.He pulled back to tease her and looked up at her. Alice smiled down at him, with a very satisfied look on her face.

Alice slid down the tree onto the wet grass. She spread her legs for Bill. For a moment Bill stood in front of her, and stared at her mound inviting him in. Alice, slid her hand between her leg and started to masterbate herself in a vicious way, Bill dropped to his knees. He gladly obliged and continued to service her with his mouth. As he dipped in and out of her with his tongue, and licked slowly and sofly the tip of her clitorious Alice foundled her own breasts. He watched in excitement as she squeezed, pinched and played with herself.

Bill felt like he was going to explode in his pants. He was more eager to explode on her arse.

“Get up, turn around.”

“Hmm.”

“Alice, you heard me get up and turn around c’mon I gotta go soon.”

Alice did as she was told and moved onto all fours. With her arse in the air he entered her from behind and pumped away until he exploded…. On her bare arse.

***

“Alice, Alice I’ve been waitin’ over one Goddamn hour for you. Where ya’ been?

“Nowhere Daddy.”

“Nowhere, don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

Alice stood frozen at the entrance of the house. The musty smell of the house was drowned out by her fear. It  ran deeply through her had, she really been gone that long? Bill took her by surprise today, she never knew he could do what he did with his mouth, at twenty three years old she had no real girlfriends to learn from, and men never offered to do that before. She heard her dad wheeling his chair into the hallway. He stopped opposite her.

“Where you been?”

“No where Daddy–”

“Well that’s not the right fuckin’ answer is it? I sent you to town for the Goddamn chow and some food, ya come back here and tell me ya been nowhere? After ya been gone a fuckin’ hour?”

“I got it Daddy I got it, well I got the food but forgot the chow I’ll go back.”

Alice’s dad slowly wheeled his chair closer to her, his face twisted into a mean scowl. He he picked up a wooden stick that was within reach as he rolled forward. Pointing in Alice’s direction he began to curse her.

“You… you little bitch, ya forgot ma’ damn chow.”

“Daddy please no, don’t, not the stick, it hurts.”

“Hurts? Hurts? I’ll show you what fuckin’ hurts means.”

“Aww Daddy no, no please.”

“What… what is that? What the fuck is that smell? Alice ya smell even more disgustin’ than usual. Have you been in the woods again. Fuckin’ boys again?”

“No Daddy.”

“No Daddy.”  

He mocked in a whining voice.

“Slut!”

Alice felt the full throttle of her dad’s anger as he beat her with the wooden stick that came loose from the stair banister. It had sat in the corner of the hallway for months.

“Daddy no, please.”

A flashback of all the times Alice had walked the two miles to town in rain, snow, and anything inbetween came flooding back to her. Her anger built over the way her dad treated her mother, causing her to lose her mind.

“You, you you pervert fuckin’ pigs in the barn, you deserve to be in a wheelchair. After all I’ve done for you this is how you thank me.”

“Alice you better watch… your… mouth.” Tom responded as he beat her three times to punctuate his words.

“Fuck you! You freak.”

Before Alice could even live to regret her actions her dad was overturned on the hard dirty wood floor of the hallway. She yanked the stick from his hand with such a force his chair overturned. Tom’s face moulded from anger to fear in the space of seconds as Alice took control. He looked up at his only daughter as she stood above him. The rise and fall of her chest and deep breathing was enough to let him know, his luck had ran out when it came to bullying Alice. She pointed the wooden stick at him as she spoke down to him.

“Now,you are going to be taught a little lesson, Daddy dear.”

“Alice, you don’t know what you’re doin’. I’m your father.”

“Haha father!” Alice threw her head back mocking him with laughter. “You would not know how to be a father if it jumped up and spat in ya ugly face!”

“Alice, c’mon now.” Tom pleaded as he started to attempt to crawl away from her with his hands.

“Where do you think, you’re going?”

Alice pulled back her arms in the style of a baseball player and struck her father across the back.

Wack!

“ Awww! Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttt! Alice for God Sake will you get me off the floor?”

“No, it’s time you learned a little lesson of your own, you shit for brains piss poor excuse of a husband and father. Wait here, oh sorry I forgot YOU’RE A FUCKIN’ INVALID YOU CAN’T MOVE!”

Alice let out a roar of laughter as she swung the bat back and beat her father around the head, face, ribs and groin area. Blood splattered all over her and the walls of the narrow damp infested hallway. Just like it had all those years ago he made her saw off that poor stranger’s head. She heard every crack of a bone, pop of of his skull and brake of his jaw. She loved it. It felt rejuvenated, after all the years of his bullshit.

“Alice, please, don’t do this please I’m–”

“Shut up! Just Shut up”

Wack!

“Awww fuck me Alice, Jesus, ya can’t do this” Tom strained to speak his slurred words through a cracked jaw.

“Poor mama, the poor woman lost her damn mind over you ya piece a-shit. Treated her like dirt, when really you were the dirty, a pig fucking dirt-bag at that. Take that ya bastard.

Wack!

Just like that, Tom’s lights went out. He was gone. Bloody, barely recognisable and in Alice’s eyes pathetic looking. For fun, she hitched up her skirt and pisssed all over him.

“There, that’ll teach you, Daddy.”

Pulling the hem of her dress down she stomped into her Daddy’s barn.

***

It was tough but she did it, she managed to drag her father’s lifeless and bloody body through the back door, out into the dark late evening and into the barn. There she placed down some sheets of plastic her father had left around and dumped him on top. Already covered in blood, that had matted her French braided hair, and smeared itself all over her face and hands. There she stood, in the barn with the pigs going wild to her left. Hungry and acting like savages in their cage at the smell of fresh blood.

Ruuuum rummmmmmm! Rummmm rummmmm!

Alice lifted her father’s chainsaw with a lot more ease than she did when she was thirteen, She sliced down on his thigh just above his knee, with a smile of pleasure a crack of laughter rang out as she watched her dad’s left leg fall away from his body. Into the wee hours of the night, Alice chopped up her father into bite sized chunks and fed his sorry ass to his beloved pigs. The devoured him, every last bone.

***

Five Years Later:

Alice stood at the window  and watched for Billy as he returned home. She listened out for his nosey truck making it’s way up the dirt road. She recentreed her mind to the present day, after she relived her night in the barn five years ago. The night she drummed up a theory about her father’s disappearance, once she fed him to the pigs and cleaned up. Word around town was, he had a terrible “freak accident” and must have fell into the river, as he hit a rock with his wheelchair, while he took an early morning “stroll” by the creek, before she woke up. Well, at least that’s what the police thought after they found his wheel chair overturned by the creek,with no one’s prints on but his.

Alice took a deep breath and looked down at her husband’s shirt. He’d been at it again, a smudged lipstick mark was on his collar. She never cared for lipstick and cosmetics, Alice was not that kind of woman, she never mastered the art of beautifying one’s self. For two months she had restrained herself and not caused a fuss or her suspicions about Billy and his floozy. She felt lucky to have Billy, he stuck by her after her father had his “accident”, and she was all alone. They got married six months after her dad disappeared, while no children had appeared yet she was hopeful, but that would be ruined with another woman in the picture. Of late Billy seemed distant, and uninterested. Secretly her inner voice said to her, if he comes home again smelling of perfume, or with makeup on his shirt, he’d meet a terrible fate in the barn just like her dad did.

Right on cue, Billy pulled up outside the house and jumped out his truck. Alice grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes into a frown, then moulded her face into the loving welcoming wife. She hid his shirt in her closet and made her way downstairs to the front door. It swung open just as she reached the bottom.

“Hey Billy, how was your day?” Alice greeted him in her most friendly, loving wifey voice.

“Ah same old, just work, work, work what’s for dinner.”

Alice narrowed her eyes, as she watched he walked past, he smelt of cheap perfume. She followed him with her gaze as he made his way into the kitchen.

“ Dinner? Oh… something reaaaaaaal special baby, just you wait and see.”

 

Left open for part two! 🙂

updated-telling-tales-weekly-challenege-kim-didi53

 

Thank you for all the votes for the writing prompts, Didi and I are always so appreciative for participation, comments, likes and voting.  I’ve NEVER wrote a horror story in my life, so this was a challenge and experience so thanks for the votes for this gory prompt! We both got so busy this week we forgot to announce the winning writing prompt. LOL. We promise this week we won’t … do write with us using the prompts. We’d love to see your stories.

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

Week #2 Vol #2: Heart Of Gold Short Story #kdsuspense #amwriting

 

saintssinnersbanner

 

Author One Scene One

Sandy sat on the bench in her usual spot, she gazed out at the ducks slashing around in the mud colored pound across from her. The park was quiet for a Monday morning. She enjoyed the moment of peace with her sunglasses lowered, as the warm spring sunshine beat down on her. This spot had quickly become her special place to think, reflect, and scan the lonely-hearts section of the newspaper. As much as she hated to admit it she longed for a date, some romance, someone to walk into her life and sweep her off her feet. Just like in the chick flick movies she was so fond of. Of course, the “insta-love” in romance novels and movies, she knew was all fictional. Every week as she picked up the free newspaper on her way to the park for her usual walk, she would hug the newspaper close to her heart hoping Mr. Right would be there for her.

She pulled out her red pen from her bag, opened the paper to page forty six, and held her breath. Chewing the inside of her lip with anticipation her brown eyes scanned the page.

“Argh too old, hmm boring, hmm not bad… I guess.”

Sandy looked down and read with interest:

Mr. Lonely: I’m not great with words but I have a kind heart and I’m looking for a special lady. I’m six foot two, brown eyes, I’d love to say I’m handsome but I’ll let you be the judge of that. I’m not perfect I have my flaws, but I know how to treat a lady. If you’d like a date get in contact.

Sandy blew out a breath of air and studied the ducks in the pound some more in deep thought. I’ll let you be the judge of that, what is he? A monster a leg missing what? She was intrigued by him, there was something about the casualness of his advert that appealed to her. At the same time, he came across as humble. She lost count of how many times she had read “I’m the man of your dreams” “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome awaits you.”

She spotted a couple strolling hand in hand around the pound, laughing and joking to themselves, her heart sank knew she didn’t have that special someone.

***

Stephen opened up the paper and smiled at his advert, there he was alongside all the other self- proclaimed “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome men.” He wished he could be so bold with a statement like that. He was receding in a bad way at just thirty two years old, he had cracked teeth, a stutter, and walked with a limp courtesy of a childhood accident. Yet, he lived in hope that he would find love, as deep down just as he had said in his advert, his heart was made of gold.

Putting his physical looks aside, he considered himself an intelligent geek. He was the head of IT for a telecoms company. He loved his job gigabytes and megabytes thrilled him. Rather than fast cars and sport.

He closed the paper and placed it neatly on the coffee table “another day another dollar” he said out loud, as he picked up his brief case, keys and headed out the door to work, limping every step of the way.

 

Author two Scene two

***

After pouring milk over her cold fruity breakfast cereal Sandy stood at her counter to eat, alone, as usual. The advert for Mr. Lonely stared at her from beneath a loud sparkling Las Vegas magnet on her fridge. She’d cut it out days before after reading it in the park. Everytime she mindlessly wandered in and out of her kitchen it taunted her.

 

She was yet to answer any kind of an ad, although she looked through them on a regular basis. Considering herself above the whole advert scene was proving to wear thin and age wasn’t exactly on her side. Sandy loved kids and the thought of a quiet family life was something she’d always wanted. Often times she caught herself daydreaming about it while at work. Would they have her thick unmanageable hair, or astigmatism? Would they be as close to each other as she was with Shelly, he own sister?

 

Sandy continued to stare at the ad while the last soggy bite of artificial flavor forced a path down her throat. Her fingers fiddled with her phone. The numbers were punched in, but she hovered over the send button unable to pep talk herself into following through with the call. What would I even say, she thought? And, what if he turns me down at the mere sound of my nasally voice? Just as she was about to press the send, a call came through. Saved by the bell.  

 

“Shelly!” Sandy answered, a little too excited for her sister’s distraction. “It’s about time you called me back.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shelly’s voice was as dry as ever.

 

It didn’t matter how close they were, Shelly was still a very busy woman. She was seven years younger than Sandy, and twice as successful. She was a section manager of local survey call center. Pulling away from the office in the middle of the day wasn’t always an easy task. That’s not to mention the fact that she didn’t care for speed dating, not one little bit. Sitting at table after table with a handful of middle aged men who never took their eyes off of her cleavage wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. More than once, she’d even ran into her own employees, now that was awkward. Nonetheless she loved Sandy. Shelly understood her sister’s concern about her biological clock, so she complied in all the tedious attempts at helping her find a soul mate – whatever that was supposed to mean anyway.

 

“So you’re coming, right?”

 

 

“I’ll be there. Noon today?”

 

“Yeah.” Sandy hated it when her sister sounded uninterested. That usually meant she’d blow her off. “Noon is in an hour, Shelly. Please don’t make me do this alone.”

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

Click. The line went dead. Sandy let out a long exasperating sigh as she set down the phone. While wrestling her hair into a loose french braid, wild curls escaping in every direction, she opted to wait on calling Mr. Lonely. His unique humility was intriguing, but actually responding to it just wasn’t on her list of priorities for the morning. It could be put off one more day, besides, maybe the speed room would bring someone a little more promising than the last giant disappointment.

 

Sandy stood tall and gilded a hand down her baby blue sundress to iron it’s wrinkles before making her way to the shoe cabinet by her front door.

***

The sun beat down violently, causing Stephen to sweat nearly to the point of profuse. He’d have a full two hour lunch break, so he chose to walk to his favorite bistro rather than drive. After limping the first of four city blocks in the summer’s heat, he’d began to question the decision. Up the street, Stephen noticed a woman. He assumed her to be homeless, as she sat on the sidewalk with a dirty blanket and tattered overnight bag at her feet. She was leaning against a brick building with a restless crying baby in her arms in the mid-day summer’s heat. The sight was much for Stephen to take in, twisting a wrench in his chest.

 

Rather than continuing on past the shops to his left he decided to make a quick pit stop. His conscious would never let him live it down, if he didn’t at least try to find something that may help this poor woman. It was a small touristy gift shop shared with a large open conference room. Several times, he’d passed by this building on his way to lunch. The ‘Speed Room’ sign dangling in one of the windows always tugged at his curiousity, but ultimately he made the consistent choice to steer clear. It was the rain gear displayed in the gift shop that drew him inside.

 

Before he could grasp the handle to walk through, the door busted open. The people shoving their way out were mostly in casual dresses and suits. Some laughed and joked amongst each other, others stared at their toes to shy to mingle. Instinctively Stephen held the door for every last one of the passers through.

 

Two women in particular caught his eye. They were the last to pass him, and both wore the grim expression of death. Obviously the speed date session had been a bust for the two, only confirming that fact that despite his efforts with the advert, he still wasn’t ready to subject himself to so many women likely to judge his limp and stutter.

 

The woman in the blue sundress caught his eye as they passed. Her soft smile formed an adorable little dimple in the center of her cheek. Their eyes locked and it caused a butterfly to escaped Stephen’s chest, flying right in her direction. She was close enough for him to intake the soft scent of citrus and fresh linen that floated from the fabric of her dress.

 

“Hi,” she mumbled in passing, the tint of her pointy ears darkened.

 

“Ma.. Ma.. Ma.. Ma’am.” Stephen stuttered wholly embarrassed.

 

Her smile only widened and the girl who looked like the younger version of herself chuckled at his speech impediment. Stephen didn’t mind, he’d been getting this reaction his entire life. Besides the girl was young, and probably very naive.

He watched the sway of Sandy’s hips as they continued down the sidewalk and across the road toward a small parking lot.

***

“Did you see that guy’s eyes?” Sandy asked her sister, as they weaved past the other cars in the lot.

 

“Who? The one in the blue and gray button up? Now he was hot!” Shelly encouraged.

 

“Nope, I’m definitely not talking about that self-absorbed windbag.”

 

“Please tell me you’re not talking about the stutter?”

 

“The stutter?”

 

Sandy raised a brow at her little sister, who was proving herself to be even more shallow than she’s already confirmed herself to be time and time again.

 

“There was something there. Something in his look,” Sandy continued.

 

“Are you sure?” Shelly leaned against her Volvo and folded her arms across her chest. “I couldn’t get past the receding hairline to notice.”

 

“You know what Shelly?” A friendly smirk grew across Sandy’s face. “I think you’re even more doomed for a lonely single life than I am.”

 

Shelly laughed freely and tossed her long silky black hair over her shoulder.

 

“The only thing I’m doomed for is a flawless sugar daddy, and the perfect boob job.”

 

Sandy couldn’t help but to share the moment, she chuckled and tossed a teasing fist at her little sister’s shoulder. Yet in the back of her mind, the dark friendly eyes of their mystery man of chivalry burned itself a permanent mark. She wrapped her arms around Shelly and thanked her for showing up despite their entire speed date being another irritating disappointment.

 

They parted ways. Sandy following her sister’s Volvo in an old broken down Satern out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Before she could fully speed off, the most touching scene played out before her eyes. It was the man with the look, that look, a look that was so familiar it stuck to every breath she exhaled, yet was different from any she’d ever been given. The man who stuttered at a mere response to her hello, and held the door for her humbly.

 

Sandy watched closely, a tear tugging at the corner of her eye, as the man limped his way to a homeless mother sitting on the sidewalk. Sandy eased her foot from the gas petal and crept past slowly as not to miss anything. The man dug into the canvas gift store shopping bag and pulled out a new yellow outfit for the infant, as well as a large water bottle for the woman which she accepted eagerly. Gulping it down in the summer heat as if she’d never tasted such a treat. Next, the bag produced an umbrella. Sandy held her breath, as well as the welling tears.

 

The man with eyes expanded the large umbrella before propping it up just right with the woman’s belongings to produce shade. Sandy’s heart melted like butter, and the moisture behind her eyes finally spilled over as the man gave the mother a hug. Finally she drove off saying to herself.

 

“God, I hope I can find a man that kind someday.”

 

For now, she’d settle for a simple phone call. She made her way home to finally respond to the ad that was plastered to her fridge. She could only hope that Mr. Lonely would have something to offer her. Something like that man with the kind dark eyes.

Kim and Didi.jpg

 

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

Week 1 Vol #2 Short Story: I’m Back Bitches,Now Panic! #kdsuspense #amwriting

Beach

“I’m back bitches, now panic!”

 

Author One Scene One:

I can see the pride and freedom in their faces. All five of them. Wearing skimpy bikinis and swim shorts, drunk and dripping wet from their recent dip in the ocean. Beachside in Hawaii, soaking up the sun with the money I’m rotting over. Freckles and all, especially Phyllis, the hag. She’s the mastermind of their entire little group. It used to be me, until Phyllis talked the others into setting me up. The biggest heist in Scottish history, and not only did I miss out on the fun, but I was the one convicted for the crime. What’s worse, I taught them bitches everything they know. How do they repay me? By framing me for millions stolen, and leaving me to waste away behind bars like a caged animal.

And now here I am, sitting in a cell and staring at a photo of my used to be crew. They’ll pay for what they did soon. I live for revenge, it really is the only thing that’s kept my dying body afloat. I can feel the cancer spreading through me. Like spilt paint, it fills every nook and cranny and then crusts there, making it impossible to scrub out. I don’t take the medicine anymore. It only makes me feel worse, and I’ve always refused the Chemo.

There’s no way I’m going to let this sickness take my fiery hair. It’s my trade-mark, helps to distinguish both personalities I portray. To everyone close I keep it curly and wild, usually tied in a giant crazy knot at the crown of my head with zero make-up and glasses to keep my face looking average. Only the few people closest to me get the pleasure of seeing my thick fiery mane the way I really like it. Straightened or waived, it flows perfectly to the curve of my back. I use only the best product as well the top make-up.

When on a job, my looks are perfected. Completely opposite of the plain Jane, sweetie sweet little girl next door type that I come off as, at a first glance on a regular day. It’s been six years since I’ve let the fierce me roam free. Six years since I thickened and curled my lengthy lashes to frame my big green eyes. Six years since was able to paint my full defined lips with my favorite velvety shade of scarlet to match my hair. I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow. Hamish better follow through with his promises. He’s had plenty of time to prepare my goods and a fake ID to get me out of the country, and away from the parole board. I’m sure they’ll be watching me like a hawk.    

The doctor gave me a year to live, and as of tomorrow I’ll be released on ‘good behavior’. I don’t need a full year, only a couple weeks… If that… I’ll finally get my revenge, and after that I don’t care how long the cancer gives me. I only care to see those bitches dead. Every last one of them. I’ve worked at my plan since the very day of my conviction. There was no point in fighting for an appeal. I’m a trickster, the best. Rather than fighting my charges for a second round, I used my time to play the part needed for an early release. The odds were better in my favor that way, and it worked. It takes time and discipline to do what I’ve done in here.

After the first six months served, I confessed fully to the crime I didn’t commit. Then I begged for the help of a priest and a therapist to get me on the right path. After all this time of playing the part I wanted them to see. I now have both religion and mental professionals on my side. No panel of judges can argue with that, especially when paired with the pity of cancer and two years of volunteering at the prison library, as a highly trusted inmate. I haven’t allowed a soul here to see through my act. No fellow inmates, guards, priests or doctors have seen any side of me other than the one I’ve wanted them to. Six fucking years. The stupid sorry saps actually believe that I want to live out the last measly year of my life in peace before the disease rots me from the inside out. They actually feel bad for me the fools.

Thank God for Hamish and our conjugal visits. We’ve been engaged for years, but I really don’t see the point in an actual wedding. I’m just going to die anyway. For the last three years he’s been able to visit the prison every few months and fuck my brains out. All the while whispering sweet not-so-nothings in my ear. He watches them for me. He knows exactly where they go and what jobs they land. Hamish keeps me up to date on every last one of those five motherfuckers. I’m all lined up with everything I need to finish them off. They’ll be holed up in Hawaii for the next month at some top dollar resort. Won’t they be surprised to see my smiling face, years sooner than expected, and just as deadly as always.   

“Two mar’ minutes, Miss McCarmick”

The guard shouts through my bars, my name rolling off her tongue with a thick scottish twang. Her chubby fingers are gripped tightly around a short beating stick, and she taps it a few times against a metal bar to get my attention.

“Yes mum.’”

I glance up and flash her my most innocent smile.

Roberta, my cell-mate, lowers herself next to me on the corner of my rock hard poor excuse of a bed. She’s nice, well to me anyway. Sort of like a mother figure. To most of the inmates she’s a crude old bitch, never putting up with their nonsense. Most of the women here are scared out of their minds of her. To me she’s like a mama bear, which is exactly what I’ve needed.

“You remind me a’ me wee one.” Roberta told me on the day we were paired in the same cell.

A few days later she made a name for herself, by sticking a butter knife through the palm of a woman who tried to snatch a biscuit from my breakfast plate, in the mass hall. Since then no one fucks with me. It’s perfect, because of her it’s been much easier to keep up the charade. The last thing I need is to loose my teetering temper when I’m trying so hard to play a kind hearted soul.

Roberta takes the photo from my hand and stares.

“Bet yer’ ready ta’ see um’. Yeah?” She asks.

“Yes mum, I miss me’ friends dearly.” I lie.

“Looks like fun ther’ gals. I’m happy far ya luv’. Ya don-a deserve to be in har’ with the rest of us’. Yer’ too sweet far’ a place like this.”

“Wall’ anyone can change mum.” I tell her with a suggestive wink.

Roberta’s laugh roars through our cell, husky with her smoker’s scratch.

“I’m a killer love, thar’s no changin’ that.”

I give her a tight hug. Roberta’s the only person I’ll actually miss from the last six years of my measly existence. It’s funny the irony. We’ve grown close based on my alter-personalities likenesses to her daughter. Yet the real me, the one I keep locked away, is so much like her it’s almost surreal. Listening to her stories, and spending so much time with her makes me ache to let my true self out. Soon, very soon I’ll have the freedom to seek the revenge I’ve lived for. I can practically taste it on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ll miss ya’, mum.”

I let my tangled hair loose and retie it in a tighter knot on my head. A few roaming curls tickle my forehead and the back of my neck. I suck in and exhale a few deep breaths as my guard leads the way. Her round hips swing, and a long pony tail swishes back and forth. My hand cuffs itch and the loose ankle chains clatter. I can’t wait to lose this metal baggage. I don’t have to wear them often, but when visiting the board it’s a must.

I take a seat in the lone chair set out just for me. Its light metal frame sets me right in the middle of a small room, windows on both sides, and the walls are a bright daunting white. Rather than avoiding eye contact like most inmates do, I hold a kind confident gaze with the four others who sit across from me. A long table separates me from three men and one woman. All dressed in their best and ready to pass the same judgement as they already have time and time again. My release was already cleared, but the last conversation with my releasing board is required.

Judge Aiken sits in the middle. He’s a foot taller than the rest and his skin a shade darker, tanned easily by the sun. He’s not the typical Scottish man. His blond hair is cut short and his blue eyes are on full display. He’s the same Judge that put me here in the first place, and the first to suggest my freedom.

“Miss McCarmack, are ye’ ready for the big day tomorrow?” Judge Aiken says.

“Yes sir.” I smile kindly, “Thank ye’ again for the faith in me.”

“I must say, your case is one ta’ remember. I’m happy to see the change in ye’”

“So am I sir,”  I act. “I’m glad to have found God, especially with my sickness.”

“Wall’ alright then. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” His thin brows lift in slight warning.

“Yes sir.”

“And your fiance ‘as cleared all the paperwork to pick you up in the marnin”

I nod, excitement rising in my belly as I listen to the Judge.

“He is to take you straight to the halfway house. You’ll stay thar far one whole month befar’ the two of ya’ will be allowed to move together’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that all four of them give my guard a nod. This is it. It’s finally happening. This time tomorrow night I’ll be on a plane to Hawaii. Dressed to impress and with my hair and face the way I like. Those fucking whores will never see me coming. I whisper under my breath on the walk back to my cell, “I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Author Two Scene Two

***

London, Heathrow Airport, 14:00 p.m

I close my umbrella on the light rain before I walk through the doors of the busy airport, into the Departures lounge. A feeling of excitement pools in my stomach. Last time I was on a plane I was in cuffs. I was extradited from Scotland to attend my trial at the Old Bailey Magistrates court in London for a crime I never committed. Yeah, I was the mastermind behind  it, I’m a con-artist after all, but I never committed it. All I was meant to do was collect my dough, and make sure everyone got paid. Phyllis decided to change that plan, her move is totally unforgivable.

  I’ve already checked in online and printed my boarding passes. I only have hand luggage with me, I head straight to the bathroom to change out of my “uniform” of plain clothing.  

Yesterday morning I landed at my halfway house with Hamish after my release, dumped my stuff and put in an appearance with my caseworker. I pleaded a great case, oh how grateful I am to be “saved” and how the Lord will guide me from here on out, as I live out my last days while this cancer eats away at me. I threw her off scent about what my whereabouts  will be over the next week. As far as she’s concerned I’ll be bed bound with my Bible and weak tea, studying the scriptures as I  repent my sins further. It was almost too easy, this double personality comes so naturally now. I can slip in and out of it quicker than you can flick a light switch. In the late evening I sneaked out of the halfway house with my hood raised, I hot footed it over to the railway station, and jumped on the last sleeper train from Edinburgh to London. It was mind blowing to step back onto the streets of London after six years inside, the quick pace everyone was walking at, finding my way around at the train station, as I navigated my way to the airport was almost overwhelming. The good thing about London is everyone fits in, no matter who you are no one batted an eyelid at my baggy jeans and oversized jumper.

One thing you learn as a con-artist is to step into the shoes of any and everybody, and never miss a business opportunity when it looks you in the face. As I waive my way through the busy Departures lounge, filled with travellers it feels like I’m in a sardine can, I smile to myself at this thought. What other profession is there that allows you to become whoever you want to be, portray whatever personality that takes your fancy? And not be classed as a nutcase… an actor, writer, stripper maybe? I dunno, either way, all I know is sniffing out a business opportunity to rip someone off is in my Scottish blood, it’s all I know. I see a unsuspecting blonde up ahead ten paces struggling with her bags. Clearly not prepared for the likes of people like me, the perfect opportunist.

“Oh sorry ma’am I never saw you there, I beg yer pardon.”

“It’s my fault all these bags, I shudda packed a wee lighter.”

As the dumb blonde focuses her attention back on her bags I knocked over, I lightly brush past her, then casually walk away toward the bathroom. Proud of myself that I’ve still got it, as I pocket her purse in the waistband of my baggy jeans. I know, small fries pick pocketing the innocent public, too bad, maybe next time she’ll remember to zip up her bag.

***

In the spacious cubicle I kick out of my jeans and jumper, then slip into something a bit more me. Hamish is a legend, when I arrived at the halfway yesterday,  he had all my shit together just how I like it ready to go. I unzip the bag and pout happily at my outfit. Over my head I slip on a nude strappy satin flowy top, then step into a pair of  white wide legged trousers that hug me in all the right places, before they widen at the leg. On my feet I don a pair of nude peep toe four inch heels. On top I slip on a white well tailored Alexander McQueen blazer. I open up the blonde’s purse check out her ID and pocket it along with her £200.00 cash. That will come in handy. I dump her purse in the ceristine of the toilet. Now, I hope Hamish hasn’t forgot to pack my cosmetics. I can’t walk out  dressed to kill without the finishing touches. He didn’t disappoint, stashed in the Karen Millen handbag I pull out a goody bag of cosmetic treats, everything from M.A.C to Kat Von D’s liquid matte lipsticks, he went to town! I also spy my fake passport and some cash. Dumping the canvas bag with my old clothing, I leave the cubicle and  make up my face in the mirror.

Stepping out the lady’s room I feel a million dollars and much more me. I confidently strut to security  and check for my flight on the screen. I see flight LAXL19657 is not delayed, perfect. With eighteen hours of flight time from London to Hawaii  I’ll  stop off in LA, meet Hamish who flew out last night, then pick up my connecting flight direct to Honolulu Hawaii.

***

Kicking back in the business section of the plane, I recline in my seat and finally relax. I hate the way airport security always make you feel as though you have something to hide.

Six years… I say it out loud and shake my head, I can’t believe they went against me, I can’t believe they were actually brave enough. The trip down memory lane is almost painful, as I block out the pretty air hostess swaying their hips, walking up and down the aisle checking everyone is buckled up and ready to depart.

***

 Six Years Ago The Flamingo Hotel &  Casino, Las Vegas:

“Hit, gimmie a hit and be good to me pretty lady!”

You’d hardly recognise me in my uniform and wig I’d wear to work, as part of the last scam we worked on. That’s right I had to get a “job” dealing cards in the casino to get us rich. I flip over a card and place down the five of hearts, on top of the queen of spades.

“Oh sir, yer so close, what’s it gonna be?”

Hamish winks at me ready to get into character and play his role. He looks great in his white  cotton sleeveless shirt, and well cut dark jeans. His skin glows with a sun kissed tan from the Las Vegas sun. He raises his hand to annotate his words.

“Fifteen! Jesus, oh boy this is a close one. What are my chances of lady luck being on my side tonight ? Fifteen is always an unlucky one for me, I always bust. Tonight, I’m on the wide side… hit me!”

I  peek from under my lashes around me, before I switch the cards expertly with ease, then flip over a six of diamonds. The crowd  around my Blackjack table go wild and cheer.

“Twenty one sir! Lady Luck herself is at the Flamingo Hotel tonight!” I announce.

To the outside eye Hamish is a very rich man, twenty five thousand dollars richer to be exact, it appears to spectators Lady Luck is on his side. He’s just an innocent man taking his chances on the cards, just like everyone else soaking up the thrill and rush Las Vegas casinos give you.

I look on through the crowd as everyone’s distracted, celebrating with Hamish. I spy  Kim and Didi  playing their part working the casino floor.  While all eyes are on the jackpot winner by my table, wallets are being lifted left right and center. I see what everyone else doesn’t.

 I watch Kim “accidentally” rub up against  an unsuspecting tourist and spills her champagne all over him.

“Oh, shit I’m sorry mate! Clumsy me ‘er lemme help you wipe ya-self down.”

I laugh at her in my head. The amount of times I’ve heard that line. From her own jeans pocket  she whips out a handkerchief and wipes down the man’s suit. I watch her lift his wallet from his  jacket pocket, distracting him with her apologies all the while.  She totters off in her heels without flinching. She always came across as too clever for my liking  now that I think about it, after all that’s happened. The street and book smart the bitch has got a mouth on her too. London born and raised, she became part of my crew the night she earned her stripes. I crossed paths with her in the bathroom at a nightclub in the upmarket district of Mayfair, in London. The cheeky bitch had the guts to lift my wallet from me, as she brushed past. I knew  what she did it takes one con to know another. When I spun her around and confronted her, she squared off with me in the bathroom, gripped my throat, pinned me up against the wall demanding to know who the fuck I was calling a thief? Bold as brass, an Oscar winning performance she denied it all, I’ll never forget it.  I cut her a deal told her if she worked for me her days of pick pocketing would be over. She bought me a cocktail and all was forgotten.

I look over at Didi setting to work, walking past all the casino’s guests with her brown eyes darting from left to right, seeking out the perfect opportunity.

Now Didi, that bitch is crazy don’t let the pretty innocent blonde, small town girl stereotype fool you. I bumped into her late one night. I was in the right place at the right time. I saw her in action  at 2:00 a.m at a liquor store over in Utah. I watched her tiny  figure roll right up to the clerk, pull a gun out from her waistband, point it in his face as she demanded in some of the most foul language I’ve heard, to fill the bag with cash by the time she counted to three. Once her bag was full, she shot him point blank between the eyes, later she confessed it was “ just for fun” even though the register was empty. I knew right then she’d be useful. As she ran out the store with her hoodie up and cash stuffed in her bag, Hamish caught her. He passed on my message, if she’s a dab hand at  stick ups, she could make a mint working for me. If we ever had a job needing her “skill set”.

Six years ago we all had one common goal Hamish, Didi, Kim, Phyllis, Diego, and me. Make money and that’s it. We spent a good six months ripping off punters and tourists that flock the many casinos in Vegas, lifting their wallets. For our second scam, Hamish was in a different disguise twice a week, playing his special role. Turns out Kim’s a dab hand with theatrical makeup artistry, she’d turn Hamish  into different men, all different races and ages. He’d be a jackpot winner at my table, while I manipulated the cards in his favor.

Once we had our fun and pocked enough dough, I innocently resigned from my role at the casino and disappeared a very rich lady.

We spent two months hiding out in the luxury resort in Cancun, Mexico, while I formed another mastermind plan to get us even richer. I had a link on the inside over at the Royal Bank of Scotland, a London branch was our target. Back then, plan was to left as much cash as we could from the bank. No stick ups, no robbery it was all about clever money laundering. We were successful until Phyllis got greedy, she was pissed that I was due to get a bigger cut of the money, and so I should have. I was the one who masterminded the whole damn plan, and had the link. When the crew and I returned to London, from Cancun her and those two other bitches Didi and Kim dropped me right in the shit.

***

 London, six years ago, outside The Royal Bank of Scotland:

“Okay girls this is it are we ready?”

“Phyllis are you sure she’s tryin-a  con us out of our money?”

“Kim, how many times have I gotta tell yer’ ? Yes, of course she is, she’s taking a full sixty percent cut while you, me, Didi, Diego and Hamish share forty percent. Does that sound fair?”

“I just don’t think she’d do it that’s all.”

“Kim, if you’re going to pussy out then go now, we can’t afford to fuck this one up. If you can’t be the getaway driver, we’ll find someone who will and give your cut to them.”

“Didi, I’m just sayin-”

“Fuck just sayin’ Kim, you in or out?”

“You better make sure your ass don’t get caught that’s all I’m sayin’ Didi we all know how trigger happy you get. And you Phyllis, keep an eye out!.”

“I’ve held up enough liquor stores to know what I’m doing, a bank can’t be that much more harder.”

“You’re one crazy bitch, Didi”

“That’s right. Now, put the car in gear and let’s go you’re lucky I don’t know how to drive on the left or I’d do it my damn self.”

“Phyllis you got the red wigs right?”

“Of course, let’s go. This is our evidence, got to make it look like she was one of robbers.”

***

“All right bitches, everyone on the floor and put ya hands behind ya head. Nobody move.”

“You heard her people, let’s go, that gun’s loaded and she will shoot.”

“You, fill up the bag now, all them notes back there are mine ya hear me?  Not just the sterling notes if ya got any dollars up in there they’re mine too. Any funny movements ya not gonna make it home tonight ya understand?”

“C’mon c’mon hurry up already! Shit mother-fucker let’s go I anit got all day.”

 

***

Can you believe that shit?  Didi held up the fucking Royal Bank of Scotland, dressed in a red wig to put me in the picture. Phyllis was the look out, Kim she was the getaway driver. She did it too, they picked a bank located not far from the motorway on the outskirts of London, for easy access to get away. Kim put her foot down. She drove that unmarked BMW  bad ass, just over two hundred miles up the M40  from London to Manchester.  When I saw the footage on the BBC News even I was proud of her, the five-oh couldn’t keep up with her swift lane changes. She threw ‘em off they crashed into a bollard and caused a massive pile up on the motorway.

To show you the kind of crazy these bitches are they staged their own crash, with a clever car switch organized by Diego, for a cut of the money of course. Those three bitches never got caught running off with my dough, Kim got them to Manchester in one piece.  

That’s not all, the bitches left my DNA everywhere in that bank. While we were in Cancun, turns out they were plotting and collecting hair from my hairbrush, ready for the big day. That’s the only thing I can think of, when the five-oh  arrested me part of the incriminating evidence was hair DNA that put me at the crime scene. As well as Didi in her red wig. Kim, hmm like I said she always was too clever for my liking, I’d put that DNA move down to her. She is in for it once I get hold of her.

So there you have it, I went down for a crime I never committed, had no knowledge of and was never part of. All because of Phyllis and her greed.

 

As I focus my mind back to the present, I say a silent prayer to myself as we take off the runway… destination LA.

***

LAX Airport Bar:

Lynn  MCcarmack, well well look at you live and in living color.”

I sigh a breath of relief as I watch Hamish swagger up to me, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hamish boy am I glad to see yer. What’s the latest?”

“Hold on, where’s your ring?”

“Hamish I’ve got it don’t worry about it, tell me what’s been going on?”

“They’re still there in Honolulu at some top dollar resort, Diego is still with them too he’s not left the girl’s side.”

“Hmm wonder why?”

“Well there’s nothing going on but you know Phyllis, once she’s got her claws in she won’t let go.”

“So what’s the plan Lynn? Once we get over to Honolulu what are you gonna do with them?”

I look Hamish square in the eye over my tumbler of whisky, I needed a little pick me up after that long flight. I narrow my eyes in deep thought.

“Hamish, trust me the question is what aint  I gonna do with them.”

“Ah- ha! Now this I gotta see, drink up our flight’s been announced.”

***

Honolulu, Hawaii

I step out the airport beaming from ear to ear, the paradise before me just adds a little sweetener to my day. Eighteen full hours in traveling, finally I’m here.

“You got the address Hamish?”

“Don’t need it, I know it like the back of my hand.”

I watch him flag down a taxi, the driver pulls over outside the Arrivals exit, and jumps out to open the doors.

“After you my sweet.” Hamish says.

I smile a sweet smile and jump in.

“Where to please sir, ma’am?”

“The Waikiki resort, I’ll give you a shout where to stop off.”

As we ride along to the resort I don’t know if it’s the almost forty degree heat, the blue sky, the sight of palm trees lined up along the street, or the thought of finally confronting my old crew members that makes my heart sing. Either way, this place is paradise. To think six years ago all this beauty would have been an everyday thing for me. The clear water, white sand, exotic locations around the world were like a second home to me, right after Scotland. The contrast of the two environments is big, I know where I’d rather be, but Scotland shaped me into who I am, and will always be home.

Thirty minutes later we step out of the taxi into the harsh midday sun, a slight breeze blows from the sea literally across the road. I look around as Hamish pays the driver, the cunts made sure the picked the best of the best, beach front, great views on what appears to be a lively strip.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be Hamish.”

We walk up to the lavish complex building, white washed, sparkling windows, open front balconies. It screams glamour,wealth and money. Stopping at the gate, Hamish looks around then taps a code in on the pad, the gate opens.

“Bingo!”

“How do yer find out the code?”

“Inside job, don’t ask.”

I smirk, at Hamish, some things never change. Behind the gates a pool greets us, the luxury makes my blood boil even more, standing back in the bushes I observe what looks like an average day. Kim sitting pretty at the table with a large sun hat on, with her nose in a fashion magazine, Didi with her sunglasses low sunning herself on a lounger, Phyllis doing laps in the pool and Diego preparing a BBQ, cutting up strips of meat. Hamish and I look at each other and smile. Finally, I’ve got them, finally revenge is going to be mine. I chew the inside of my lip the feeling is so sweet.  I’ve dreamed of this day for six  years. I imagined all kinds of scenarios  for the day we finally met, never did I imagine I’d fly thousands of miles to paradise to confront them.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” Hamish teases me.

I throw my fire red mane back and strut out from behind the bushes, toward the pool area, Hamish follows behind me.

“Well, I hate to spoil the party guys is there space for one more?”

Four pairs of eyes look up at me, their mouths hit the floor. Kim raises an eyebrow in my direction, Didi puts her poker face on show. Diego reaches for a knife from the table. Phyllis almost drowns herself in the pool at the sight of me, but she’s the first to panic.

“Lynn Lynn OMG you’re… you’re… what  ya doing ‘ere you’re out early? Listen ya gotta hear me out, they made me do it, Didi an’ Kim they made up all kinda shit about you I had no choice.”

“Lying bitch, you were the ring leader! I know all about it. That’s right I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Nicely left open so we can do part two if we get a good response!!

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This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

I Can’t Believe You Voted For This Writing Prompt! LOL #kdsuspense #amwriting

Between the blog polls and Twitter you all voted for this as the winning prompt, to create this week’s short story.

I’m back bitches, now panic!

Didi and I love this prompt! It really fits in well with the theme she lined up “back with a bang”,  to celebrate the return of our weekly writing challenge Kim and Didi’s Suspenseful Collection. Remember you can join in and write with us. We’d love to read your stories using the prompt. Be bold and be brave!  Thank you for all your votes! The writing has commenced, we’ll be back Tuesday with the story for y’all using this writing prompt. Have a wonderful end to the weekend.

Kim and Didi.jpg